An Act of Courage (Acts of Honor Series Book 4)

by K. C. Lynn

  “He loved you like a brother you know,” she says, stepping back. “You meant so much to him and the only thing that brings me peace is knowing you were with him, holding his hand.”

  If only it could have ended that way. I shove aside the shame and guilt threatening to take me under.

  “I should probably get going,” she whispers. “It’s a long drive back, but I wanted to do this in person.”

  “You’re welcome to stay the night and drive back tomorrow.” It’s the least I can do after she came all this way. Rosewood is about a three-hour drive, a long way to come for ten minutes.

  She wouldn’t have needed to if you had kept your promise…

  “Thanks, but no. I don’t wanna leave Christin for too long and the drive is nice. It’s quiet and gives me time to reflect.” She steps into me for one more hug. “I hope his letter brings you the same peace it did me.”

  That is something I will never feel again.

  “If you ever need anything, Gina, you know where to find me.”

  “I know. Come see us sometime, will ya?”

  I nod, unable to form another word.

  After she climbs into her car, I wait until it disappears before I head toward the house. I sense eyes on me from across the way, ones that I can’t bring myself to look into, fearing she’ll see the truth. To know what a monster I really am.

  Walking into my room, I open my nightstand and throw the envelope in then stare down at the dog tags. The dark memory begins to fester, coiling inside every muscle in my body. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to suppress it, but his screams echo inside of my head.

  The pungent smell.

  The blood.

  So much fucking blood.

  The hook.

  Nausea burns in my gut, rolling around like a heavy stone of dread. Dropping the metal tags, I run to the bathroom and empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet. My blurry eyes burn, face wet and warm as the memories take hold, wrapping their unforgiving fingers around my tormented soul.

  It should have been me, not him.

  “The only thing that gives me some peace is to know you were with him, holding his hand.”

  Gina’s words roll through my head, torturing me further. Little did she know, she was just hugging his killer.

  CHAPTER 21

  Alissa

  I come awake, my eyes taking in the dark room. Concern plagues my heavy heart when I find the spot next to me cold and empty.

  Christopher hasn’t been the same since her visit. At first I had no idea who the woman was. At one point I even thought she was an ex-girlfriend by the way she touched his face and hugged him. The jealousy I felt was tremendous but it didn’t take me long to figure out it was Billy’s wife. The only clarification Christopher divulged to me.

  Since her departure he’s been distant. Sad—angry. When I asked him if everything was all right he was honest and said no but also said he didn’t want to talk about it. I respected his wishes and tried comforting him but he wasn’t very receptive to my touch. The rejection stung, no matter how much I tried not to let it.

  I long to comfort him. To take away whatever this pain is he’s living with. I thought it was getting better, the past week has been amazing, but it’s obvious he’s still hurting.

  I’ve never felt so helpless.

  Refusing to let him suffer alone, I climb from the bed and throw on his button-down shirt over my tank top and panties. My plan is to check his studio first, but when I walk out of his room, I see the front door open and find him sitting on the porch. His broad shoulders are slumped, head hanging in defeat.

  I start forward, his pain calling to me. My hand rests on the screen door before I push it open. The squeak alerts him of my presence but he doesn’t look back at me, not even when I come to stand next to him.

  “Don’t come too close.” His voice is gruff, every word bleeding with agony.

  “Why?”

  He finally lifts his head, revealing the shame and despair he tries so desperately to hide. “Because I’ll end up dragging you into this hell with me.”

  Tears burn the back of my throat as I move to kneel in front of him, my hand going to the side of his face. “You don’t need to drag me. I’ll follow you. I’ll always follow you.”

  His eyes fall to the steps, my words only adding to the agony etched on his face.

  “Christopher, please look at me.” Cupping his face, I lift his tormented eyes back to mine. “It’s okay,” I tell him gently. “It’s okay to hurt.”

  His jaw flexes, chest heaving as he desperately tries to hold in his pain.

  “Even heroes have the right to bleed,” I whisper.

  A cold darkness fills his eyes, a shield of armor locking down around him. “I’m no hero, Alissa. I’m the fucking enemy.”

  His words burn inside of my heart, but not nearly as much as his belief in them. “No,” I choke out. “I’ll never believe it. You’re too good. You have too much good inside of you.”

  He shakes his head, refusing to hear my words.

  “Talk to me. Please. I love you. I want to help you.”

  Unshed tears brim in his haunted eyes, his broken soul reflecting back at me. “You’re in love with a monster.”

  My heart shatters, and the sob I’ve been trying to hold back explodes past my lips. I throw my arms around his neck, trying to hold his broken pieces together, not knowing how to make this better for him.

  He finally accepts my comfort, his arms banding around me so tight that I have no idea who is clinging to whom now.

  Picking me up, he carries me back into the house. My lips trail across his jaw, loving him the only way I can since my words have done nothing to ease him.

  The moment my back meets the mattress, he comes over top of me and steals my mouth in the most devastating kiss, pleading for the help he cannot bring himself to ask for. I wholeheartedly pour everything I have into it, praying it can overshadow the demons that continue to plague him.

  His hand moves between us, ripping the thin lace from my hips before he shoves down his pants, freeing himself. A gasp parts my lips as he slides into me in one thrust, not only connecting our bodies but also our souls. His broken one merges with mine that desperately longs to heal him.

  I grip his shoulders, letting him seek the refuge he so desperately needs. His eyes never leave mine, pulling me into the darkness that he’s been caged in.

  I will walk it every day with him, every second I will suffer alongside of him until he finds the light once again.

  My hand lifts, fingers brushing his sad lips. “Whatever it is that you think you’ve done. No matter what it is…I forgive you.”

  His thrusts come to a stop and a lone tear spills from his eye onto my cheek. The sight and feel of it tears me apart. He drops down on top of me, burying his face in my neck and soaks it with his tears.

  My arms hold his trembling body close, his pain bleeding beneath my fingertips. I wish my words were enough but I know the only forgiveness that will set him free is his own.

  CHAPTER 22

  Christopher

  Syria

  Seven months earlier

  The wind is heavy and harsh, sand thrusting across my face as bullets spray through the air.

  It was supposed to be simple—routine. Meet with the village elder here in Saidnaya and set up shop. After all, we were called here, to fight the enemy.

  Only, we were betrayed.

  The sandstorm hit out of nowhere, right in the middle of gunfire, adding to the madness. It left us even more vulnerable than we had been by the ambush itself.

  First Dex was hit, half of his face getting shot off. Then Fontaine, his leg blown off at the knee. We are being picked off one by one and they have the advantage—the element of surprise and they outnumber us.

  Women with their children scramble as they try to escape the firing zone.

  Ricky and Trigger carry Fontaine while I cover them. We crouch behind mounds of rubble and demoli
shed cement buildings, firing back as we attempt to make our way to safety.

  Amidst it all my eyes search through the chaos looking for Billy, but find him nowhere. Not until we make it to the next dusty side street.

  My heavy boots falter when I spot him being thrown to the ground, his face shoved into the dirt as he’s stripped of his weapons. At least ten of them surround him.

  Fear curls its icy fingers around my heart. I order the others to keep going then I open fire on the motherfuckers, remaining out of sight. I manage to take out eight of them, Billy already pushing back to his feet, but more come.

  So many more.

  Dread sinks into my gut like a heavy anchor when Billy is forced back to his knees, an assault rifle jamming into his head. I have the opportunity to bail and catch up with the others. Instead, I step into the street and follow my best friend into hell.

  CHAPTER 23

  Alissa

  He continues to withdraw from everyone, including me. He’s agitated, angry, and closed off. Nothing I do or say helps. No one can get through to him. We’ve all tried. He and Cade even got into an argument yesterday because he snapped at Mia for asking him a simple question.

  It’s heartbreaking because you can tell it hurt him as much as it did his baby sister. He doesn’t want to be like this, he’s spiraling, but we don’t know how to help him.

  Not only is he hurting himself, but he’s also hurting everyone around him. Even now, as I sit in the music class observing him with the children, I can sense the tension. Christopher has been frustrated with them since we started. They’ve lost their teacher and it shows on each one of their faces.

  I’ve tried to act as a buffer but he’s not making it easy. They need more. They need the instructor who believes in them.

  “Cut!” Christopher’s angry voice slices through the air. “What are you guys doing? Did any of you even listen to the CD I gave you?”

  Their eyes are wide; unsure of whom this person is in front of them. I’ve been wondering it, too. This isn’t the man I love.

  With a heavy breath, he drives a frustrated hand through his hair. “Let’s take it from the top. I need you to focus.”

  Before they can begin, the timer goes off, signaling their dreadful hour is over.

  “Thank God,” Latisha grumbles. She jumps down from her spot on the bench and storms past Christopher, hitting him with her shoulder as she passes.

  The rest of the children follow suit, none of them offering him a good-bye except Rafe. Christopher looks guilt stricken but his anger prevents him from apologizing.

  As they all begin to filter out to meet their waiting parents, I hug each one, letting them know they did a wonderful job. Once they’re gone, I turn to find Christopher straightening up, pushing the chairs back in place harder than necessary.

  “You were a little tough on them, don’t you think?”

  “We have five weeks until the fair. If they don’t start putting more effort into this, they’re going to fail in front of everyone.”

  “Beating down their self-esteem is most certainly not going to help them. You of all people should know that.”

  His shoulders tense and he lifts his angry eyes to mine. “Nice dig.”

  I swallow thickly, refusing to let him make me feel bad for being honest. “This isn’t about insults, Christopher. You’re falling apart and you’re taking it out on the people around you. You need help.”

  “What I need is for everyone to back the fuck off!”

  The angry words pierce my hurting heart. “You want me to go? Is that it?”

  His jaw flexes, body rigid with tension. “I didn’t fucking say that.”

  “Then what are you saying? Tell me. I just want to help you.”

  Before I can get an answer, his cellphone rings. Cursing, he digs it out of his pocket and holds it up to his ear. “What?” he snaps.

  I look away, blinking back the tears that are threatening to fall.

  “When?”

  The tone in his voice causes my skin to prickle in warning.

  “We’re on our way.” He hangs up and slides the phone back into his pocket.

  “Who was it?”

  “Cooper. They’ve made an arrest.” Grabbing my hand, he leads me toward the parking lot, his angry strides determined while my mind races with who they could have arrested.

  Cooper is waiting at the front when we walk in, his expression grim as he greets us. I follow him anxiously as he leads us into an interrogation room that has a two-way mirror. On the other side sits an unfamiliar man with dark, greasy hair, his hands cuffed in front of him.

  “Do you recognize him?” Cooper asks, his eyes trained on me.

  “No. Who is he?”

  “Diego Juarez. He works at Dirk’s Auto Body in the city. Forensics found his hair fibers in your vehicle and we have a witness who puts him at your apartment building the night before the accident.”

  I frown, feeling more confused than ever. “I’ve never seen him before.”

  “Was your Jeep ever taken into Dirk’s for maintenance?”

  “No. It’s brand new. I haven’t even driven it that much.”

  “Shit!” He sighs in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We have evidence but no motive.”

  Christopher takes the moment to cut in. “I don’t see how this asshole could have any contacts in Kenya. There’s also no reason he’d hurt Alissa. She doesn’t even fucking know who he is.”

  “There has to be a connection. We just have to find it. The problem is, he’s not talking.”

  “Make him talk,” Christopher fires back.

  Cooper bristles at his tone, his eyes narrowing. “What do you think we’ve been doing?”

  “Maybe you should question him harder.”

  “This isn’t a damn war zone, kid. We do shit by the book here.”

  “Then let him go and I’ll question him.”

  Cooper takes a step forward; his shoulders bunched with tension as he points a finger at him. “You’re going to keep your fucking hands clean and let us do our job.”

  Hating to see them fight like this, I grab Christopher’s hand, hoping to calm him. “He’s right. Let them handle this. They know who did it, we just need to find out why.”

  Cooper dismisses Christopher, returning his attention to me again. “I’m going to hold him as long as I can. We’re bringing in one of our best interrogators and we’re working on a deal to offer him. Hopefully, it will make him talk. We’re also in the middle of trying to locate the owner of the body shop. In the meantime, stay by the phone. I’ll call as soon as I have more for you.”

  “I’m heading to my mother’s for about an hour then I’ll be back at Christopher’s.”

  Nodding, he opens the door for us. “I’ll be in touch.”

  Christopher makes no move to leave, his furious eyes trained on the stranger in the other room. Squeezing his hand, I pull him from his trance and lead him from the room.

  Once we’re back inside his truck, he unleashes all of his anger on the steering wheel, pounding it with his fist. “This makes no fucking sense!”

  I agree with him. Why would someone I never met want to hurt me? Is he responsible for what happened in Kenya or is it all some strange coincidence?

  Christopher’s fingers grip the wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. Guilt builds inside of me, mixing with all of my other conflicting emotions. He’s going through so much right now and my problems are only adding to it.

  I’m hurting him more.

  I long to reach for his hand again, to feel his warmth, but I have a feeling it’s the last thing he wants at the moment. So, I fold mine on my lap and give him the space he clearly wants right now.

  He pulls away from the curb, starting the thirty-minute drive to my mother’s. Seeing her is the last thing I want to do, especially right now, but her text messages and phone calls over the past few days have been relentless. I can’t ignore her any longer. It’s time I face he
r, and I have a few things that need to be said. I have a feeling, by the time I leave, she will regret asking me to come see her.

  Christopher parks in front of the large two-story home that’s located in one of the wealthiest areas in Charleston. It backs onto the Cooper River and even has its own private dock. It’s a beautiful neighborhood that’s filled with people as pretentious as my mother and stepfather.

  He leaves the truck idling, and stares out the windshield. “I’m going to head to the gym. Text me when you’re done and I’ll come get you.”

  Pain inflicts upon my heart when he refuses to even cast a glance my way. “Maybe it’s best I stay with my father until this is over,” I suggest quietly. It’s the last thing I want but I don’t want to cause him any more grief.

  His head snaps to the side, dark eyes pinning me where I sit. “You’re not leaving my side until this is over.”

  Then what?

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask but I refrain. The thought of not being with him when this is all settled hurts too much to even think about.

  Swallowing back the burn in my throat I pull the door handle, ready to climb out, but find I can’t do it. I can’t leave him like this. Twisting in my seat, I crawl over to him and wrap my arms around his neck.

  Relief floods my heart when he returns my embrace, his arms hugging me close.

  “I hate fighting with you,” I tell him, trying to hold back my emotion.

  “I’m sorry I’m being such an asshole, Lis.” The apology is delivered on a choked whisper.

  Lifting my head, I look back at him, my hand moving to his jaw. “Everything is going to be okay. We’ll get through this.”

  “That’s supposed to be my line,” he says, his lips curling in a sad smile.

  “We can both say it. We can lean on each other.”

  He pulls me in for a heated kiss. It’s his way of deflecting whatever he’s refusing to deal with but I’ll accept it. Anything is better than fighting, especially when we both need each other now more than ever.